


How Full We Felt

by boomerbird10



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Tivali + cameos from the current cast!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerbird10/pseuds/boomerbird10
Summary: "She can dance as poorly as she wishes to, for as long as it makes her happy." Tali's six-year-old ballet recital is canceled when the coronavirus hits Paris, and it's going to take more than just her parents to save the day this time.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	How Full We Felt

"There was still no likelihood that we could make a living from dance. We were doing it because we loved it… We realized how full we felt; we were surrounded by music and dancing and joy."

-Alvin Ailey

* * *

Tali David-DiNozzo doesn't have a career ahead of her as a ballerina. Almost anyone who's seen her dance would agree. Of course, there are those who insist that she just needs practice, that time will mold her into whatever she wants to be, and if that's a dancer, then so be it.

Well, there's one person who believes all that, anyway.

"She's just young," Tony argues with a frown as he sits next to Ziva at Tali's dance class. "She'll learn."

Ziva chuckles, watching their daughter with a healthy combination of love and amusement as Tali falls down once again. "If she was merely young, Tony, then the other children in her class would be just as… interesting to watch. They are all six, not just Tali."

"You," Tony insists, pointing a finger close to her face, "are just being hypercritical."

Ziva wrinkles her nose in response. "How can I be hypocritical about a child's dance class when I am neither a child nor a dancer?"

Tony laughs, shaking his head, and waves enthusiastically to his kid as she spots him through the window and gestures to him with great excitement. "Not hyp _o_ critical, Ziva, hyp _er_ critical. You know, extra critical when you don't need to be."

"I am not criticizing her at all!"

"Not to her face, you're not," Tony clarifies in a mocking tone, elbowing Ziva repeatedly until she squirms away from him, chuckling.

The mother sitting in the chair ahead of them turns around to glare and shush them. Mildly chastised, they exchange looks, giggle, and slouch in their chairs together as if they're six-year-olds themselves rather than being the parents of one. "I am _not_ criticizing," Ziva insists in a whisper, poking Tony's nose and making him sneeze in reflex. "I am just… observing."

"Well, don't you dare share your _observations_ with my baby," Tony insists, and Ziva knows he's teasing even before he sticks his tongue out at her.

"Anthony DiNozzo, I would _never_!" Ziva assures him. This time, it's her turn to receive joyful waves from the gap-toothed Tali. The rest of the class is working on sautes, but Tali is, as usual, doing her own thing.

"Good, because she's having the time of her life in there."

That much, at least, is clearly true. Tali has closed her eyes and lifted her arms up in the air, starting to spin around and increasing her speed until she can't maintain it and she topples to the floor. The expression on her face is nothing sort of rapturous, though, even as she stands, dusts off her knees, and does it again.

"That she is," Ziva agrees, warm. "You said that she has been taking classes for how long?"

"Three years." Tony puts his hands up in surrender as Ziva gives him a look, and they laugh together. "Okay, okay," he admits, grinning. "So she's not, like, in the top five percent. Who cares?"

"Not me. She can dance as poorly as she wishes to, for as long as it makes her happy."

"That's the spirit."

* * *

Tali chatters all the way home about her upcoming ballet recital, something she's been looking forward to for months. Now it's only about a week away, and the first thing Tali does every morning is cross that day off her calendar so her countdown is up-to-date.

In between requests of "swing me, guys!" as she walks between them, holding one hand of each parent, she explains exactly what her costume looks like… as if she hasn't insisted on wearing it a little every day, and most nights to bed, too. (It's not worth the fight, Tony insists, speaking as someone who has long since learned to pick his battles.)

She walks them through her class's routine… as if they haven't been sitting in the dance studio's little parent's gallery from the beginning, watching the whole song come together step by step. She reminds them three times during the fifteen minute walk home that her recital is on March 20th at 19:00… as if there aren't several reminders tacked up all over their apartment.

Still, they humor her, encouraging her passion with endless rounds of "is that right, baby girl?" and "I cannot wait to watch, _hamudi_." Over Tali's curly-topped head, though, Tony and Ziva occasionally meet one another's eyes, exchanging beams because they're still a little giddy about this peaceful life they finally get to live.

Tali doesn't have an ounce of darkness weighing down her soul, something her parents are thankful for every day.

Unfortunately, the world is an unpredictable place, and on March 15th, the French government announces that Paris will be shutting down all nonessential businesses, effective immediately. Suddenly, the virus that seemed at worst a far-off threat is right in their front yard, throwing all of their plans out the window and forcing them to shelter in place. It's not the worst thing in the world, really; Tony is able to work from home, and all three of them get to enjoy each other's company. That's something they still don't take for granted.

On March 16th, though, shortly after Tali's bedtime, Tony and Ziva are lounging side-by-side on the sofa when Tony gets an email that makes him sigh. "Oh, no."

"What? What is it?" Ziva asks, sitting up to look over his shoulder, trying to see what he's reading.

"Eyes to yourself, nosy lady," Tony retorts, but his heart isn't in the teasing for now. He hands over his phone and watches as Ziva's dark eyes scan the French text of the email.

"I am not surprised," she murmurs when she finishes, handing the phone back, "but Tali will be devastated." Her eyes drift to the wall behind which their innocent little dancer is sleeping, and her heart aches for what she knows Tali will feel when she finds out tomorrow.

"I know. God, I hate this for her. We'll have to do something special that night, you know? Something to take her mind off of the fact that she's missing her recital."

"What do you mean, missing my recital?" peeps a small, sleepy voice at the end of the sofa, and they both look up to see Tali standing there in her pajamas. Rubbing her eyes and holding Kelev firmly under one arm, she looks even younger than she is.

Tony sighs and leans in to brush her messy, sleep-mussed hair back from her face. "You know how we have to stay inside a lot right now?" he starts carefully, not wanting to upset her any more than necessary.

"Yeah, so we can watch a lot of movies," Tali replies, confused by the mystery of how this connects to her ballet recital.

Tony lets out a quiet half-laugh. "Well, we're not staying inside _to_ watch movies, but we're killing a lot of extra time by watching more movies than usual, you're right. That's a smart thing to notice. The reason we're staying inside, though, is that there's a really yucky sickness going around outside. Do you remember when we had Hélène over for a playdate back before _Ima_ came home?"

Tali nods, blinking about twice as much as usual as she tries to stay awake. Ziva thinks with sympathy that the little girl is almost asleep on her feet right now.

"I _knew_ you'd remember that, 'cause you've got a super memory," Tony compliments, grabbing Tali's little nose and tweaking it gently to make her laugh. "Well, if you remember that playdate with Hélène, you might also remember that you and I got sick for a while after that. It was almost a whole week with no school and no work, right? Just you and me, laying in that fort we built on the floor and drinking apple juice 'til we felt better."

"Yeah!" Tali exclaims as she remembers more clearly. "We watched _Frozen_ , and _How to Train Your Dragon_ , and _Babe_ , and _Coco_ , and…" She runs out of breath and has to take in an extra big one to make up for it, making her parents laugh.

Ziva mouths 'totally your child' over Tali's head, and Tony grins, ducking to kiss their daughter's little forehead. "You've got it, Tali-Tee," he praises. "We had to do that because we got sick from Hélène's germs. We didn't know it then, but she was sick when she came over to play."

Tali frowns. "I know what germs do, Daddy. I'm not a baby."

"I know," Tony agrees without missing a beat, "I was explaining for _Ima_ because I don't think _she_ knew."

Tali giggles at this outrageous suggestion, but then she remembers why they're having this conversation and her face falls. "But what about my recital?"

Tony sighs one more time, having hoped they could put this conversation off til tomorrow. Of course, Tali, Ziva's child through and through, has a stubborn streak a mile wide. "Here's the thing—all those germs that make us sick? They're easier to avoid if we don't touch or get close to a lot of people, because the germs like living on people best out of everywhere and they like to spread. Right now, there's an especially yucky germ out there trying to get us sick, so we have to wait it out in here." Tali opens her mouth to interrupt, but Tony lightly puts a finger over her lips. "Hey, we talked about letting people finish, remember?" Tali nods under his finger, and Tony lets her go. "There we go. Your recital can't happen anymore because there would be too many people in one room and it would make it too easy for those germs to get us sick."

"But… but…" Tali's lower lip starts to tremble as she digests this announcement. "That was _my_ recital."

"I know, baby. _Ima_ and I were so excited to watch you dance! But this won't be forever. Any day now, _Footloose_ is gonna be calling, begging you to be the star of the show. There will be more recitals for you later, al—"

Tony stops talking mid-sentence as his daughter abruptly bursts into tears and falls against his chest in a burst of sobs. "It isn't faaair!" she wails, her voice muffled by Tony's sweater. "I want to dance!"

"I know. I know. You're right. It really isn't fair, and it's okay to be sad about that. Cry as long as you need to, Tali girl." Tony looks helplessly at Ziva over Tali's head as he cradles her little body, wishing he could offer her more.

Ziva, however, is not looking in their direction at all. Instead, she's staring off into space, her features settling into an expression of determination… There must be an idea brewing up there in that brilliant mind of hers.

Until Ziva shares with the class, Tony will do his best to cheer up their kid. After a moment of holding onto Tali and stroking her back, he gets roughly to his feet, grunting with the effort of lifting Tali as he does. Then he starts humming quietly, swaying back and forth, and occasionally rotating in place. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Tali takes notice.

"What're you doing, Daddy?" she asks, still sniffling.

Tony glances down at her, his eyes widening as if he's only just noticed that she's resting on his shoulder. "Oh, _Tali_! There you are! I was just thinking of going to find you and seeing if I could have this dance with you."

"You want to dance with me?" Tali queries, perking up a little.

"There's nothing I'd like more."

"Hmm… okay!"

Tali squirms to get down and Tony obliges, chuckling.

"First, you have to stand like this…" Tali starts, and Tony lets himself be manipulated this way and that until his first position is deemed acceptable by his tiny dance instructor. He glances over at Ziva a couple of times, curious as to what she's doing—she's pulled out her laptop and is typing something with an air of great concentration.

Eventually, Tali calms down enough to start yawning again, and Tony convinces her to go back to bed only by promising to dance with her again in the morning.

" _Laila tov,_ little one," Ziva says, looking up from her computer for long enough to give the girl a new goodnight kiss. "I love you."

"Good night, _Ima_. Love you, too."

Tony makes quick work of returning their resident ballerina to her bed, and as soon as he's got her back down, he makes his way back out to where Ziva's sitting. When he plops down next to her, she gives him a distracted smile and goes back to what she's working on.

"Okay, David, spill," Tony requests, nudging her. "What are you working on?"

"I am trying to solve Tali's recital problem," she explains, turning the device in his direction so he can see her email application.

"Not sure what I'm looking at here," Tony admits after glancing at it.

"I am inviting people to the recital, see?"

"The recital… that was _canceled_ …?" Tony hints very slowly, hoping that Ziva will realize on her own where the flaw in her logic lies.

Ziva scoffs. "No, Tony, not _that_ recital. Try to keep up, will you?"

Tony laughs, putting his palms up and fondly thinking for the tenth time today that she's crazy. "You've caught me. I forgot all about the super secret second recital that _wasn't_ canceled."

Ziva gives him a less-than-impressed look and transfers her laptop into his lap. "If you would look at what I am showing you, you would not have to make so many stupid jokes."

"Geez Louise, tough crowd," Tony mutters, but he opens the selected email and skims it. Once he understands what he's reading, he lunges toward Ziva to steal a quick kiss. "Ziva, this is a fantastic idea. Tali's going to love it!"

Instantly, Ziva's annoyance melts away, and she smiles hopefully. "You think so?"

"I know so. It's going to mean so much to her," Tony promises seriously. "You're freakin' brilliant."

To his dismay, though, his words seem to have an opposite effect than intended. Ziva's face falls a little, and she looks away. "I am trying."

"What do you mean?"

"I am trying to do what I can for her."

Tony frowns. "Hey. Look at me, Ziva." She does, still looking a little morose. "Can you tell me what the hell you're talking about? Because from here, it looks like you're going above and beyond."

Ziva shrugs, fighting the urge to look away again. "When things like this happen… I am not who she turns to. She wants to be comforted by you, not me. But this… this, I can do. I can try to make her happy in other ways."

Tony purses his lips and sets Ziva's laptop on the coffee table so there's nothing in between them. Then he takes her hands, squeezing them tenderly. "It's early days yet," he reminds her earnestly. "You don't think it was like this for me in the beginning? God, it was… it was hard. Tali barely wanted anything to do with me when she was upset—she just kept asking for _Ima_. Her little brain is hardwired a certain way and it takes some time to make changes feel permanent, okay? She'll get there. We'll _all_ get there." It's a promise.

"I hope that you are right," Ziva replies, looking a little cheered.

"Of course I am. It doesn't matter if you're not the one she wants for a scraped knee just yet… she thinks you're her badass ninja _ima_ , and she's _right_."

Ziva laughs, then tugs on Tony's hands until he leans in close enough for a kiss. He's more than happy to oblige.

* * *

It takes a little coordinating, but slowly, Ziva and Tony bring her plan together. They keep it all a secret from Tali just in case it falls through for some reason; she has a couple more meltdowns about the canceled recital, but she slowly starts to get back to her cheerful self.

By the evening of the 20th, it's time to put the plan in motion. Tony looks at the clock and makes an elaborate hand gesture in Ziva's direction, hissing "peanut butter!" as he does.

Ziva rolls her eyes, but she doesn't bother to suppress the smile that rises to her lips. "Come, Tali. I think it might be time to build a lego castle. What do you think?"

"Yeah! Maybe we can make it _really big_ and we can live in it."

Agreeing that a life-sized castle _would_ be neat, Ziva gently ushers the 6-year-old in the direction of her bedroom. "You could have simply pointed to the clock or said the time and Tali would have been none the wiser," she says under her breath as they pass Tony.

"Code names are cool!" Tony whispers indignantly after her, and she loudly starts a conversation with Tali about silly boys instead of answering.

With Tali out of the room, Tony's free to set up the living room and he hurries to do so. Once he's done, there's a large space cleared where the coffee table used to be, separated from the sofa by a makeshift curtain strung across the ceiling. Then Tony sets up Ziva's laptop.

He finishes up right on time, feeling highly self-satisfied, and ambles back to Tali's room. "Hey, princess, _Ima_ and I have a surprise for you, if you're interested."

"A surprise? What is it?"

"If we told you, it would not be a surprise, now would it?" Ziva teases, reaching over to lightly tickle Tali's sides until she shrieks gleefully.

"Now, if you don't want it…" Tony hazards, trailing off suggestively.

"I do want it! Please, can I have it?"

Tony pretends to deliberate. "What do you think, Ziva?"

Ziva tucks Tali's hair behind her ears and smiles. "Yes, but only because she asked nicely."

Tali's eyes light up. "Thank you! Can I open it now?"

"It is not something that requires opening," Ziva answers, getting to her feet and rummaging through Tali's closet, "or at least not in the way you are thinking. But it _does_ require you to wear something pretty. I was thinking… _this_?" She holds up Tali's recital costume, jiggling it a little so its sequins send light dancing across the walls.

"Good idea, _Ima_!"

They help her put it on and then lead her back to the living room. "What's all this for?" Tali asks, curiously plucking at the curtain Tony set up.

"Every stage needs a curtain," Ziva hints.

"Stage? For what?"

"It's _your_ stage, Tals. For your recital."

"Daddy, _Ima_ , my recital was canceled," Tali reminds them sadly, running a finger through the tassels lining her costume.

"You're right, but _Ima_ had a really fun idea. She thought we might move your recital here."

" _Ima_ , you're a superhero!" Tali cries. "That's so smart!"

"Told you," Tony says smugly, sotto voce.

Ziva's smile is brilliant, and she drops to her knees to straighten Tali's outfit. "Are you ready, my love? Your audience is waiting."

"What audience?"

Tony turns the laptop around so Tali can see the screen, and she gasps when she's met with a chorus of "hi, Tali!" and "break a leg, Tali!" from the people on the screen. Tali creeps closer, gaping at all of the faces she sees.

"Do you remember _Ima_ and _Abba_ 's NCIS friends?" Ziva asks, gesturing to the screen where most of her loved ones can be seen gathered in MTAC. "It is okay if you do not—you have not seen most of them in a long time, except in photos. Here is Gibbs, Jack, Vance, and Tim, and on that side, Ellie, Nick, Jimmy, Kasie, and of course you know your Pop-Pop. They all wanted to watch you dance. Do you think you can show them your routine?"

"Yes! But I don't have any music!"

"I believe your _Abba_ has worked that out."

Tony holds one thumb up in confirmation. "Just waiting on you, Tali-Tee. Whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready!"

"Let's hop to it, then." Tony sets the computer on a couch cushion and settles next to the CD player while Ziva ushers Tali back behind the curtain. "Now presenting…" Tony announces, making a drum roll on the side of the CD player. "Talia David-DiNozzo, ballerina extraordinaire!" Ziva draws back the curtain, Tony starts the music, and they sit back to enjoy the show.

* * *

An hour or two later, there's a string of dinging noises across the NCIS bullpen as all of the recital attendees receive an email. McGee opens his, grinning when he sees that it's from Tony and that there's an attached video of Tali thanking them all for giving up their lunch break to watch her dance.

"That's one cute kid," Sloane comments as she walks by.

"Cute, maybe, but that girl can _not_ dance," Torres chimes in.

"Nick!" Ellie scolds. "Don't be rude. She's only six."

"Come on, I know we were all thinking it, right? I'm just the only one brave enough to say it out loud," Nick defends.

Before Ellie can reply and turn it into a bicker fight, everyone's phones ding again. Ellie gets the email open first and laughs out loud almost immediately after. "Nick? I think this message is meant for you."

Nick looks over her shoulder and laughs, too. It's another email from Tony, but this one doesn't have a video. Actually, it's just a single line of text.

 _And don't you dare say anything about my daughter's dance skills_.

Tali David-DiNozzo doesn't have a career ahead of her as a ballerina. Almost anyone who's seen her dance would agree… but what she _does_ have are people willing to watch her dance anyway, and that love is worth so much more.


End file.
